


Case study: castaway

by Corinne K (Corinne_K)



Category: Free!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Castaway AU, Castaway Haru, Coach Yamazaki and Professor Tachibana, High school student Rin, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Platonic SouRIn, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 22:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16293284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinne_K/pseuds/Corinne%20K
Summary: Makoto Tachibana is a professor of human motricity at Tokyo University. His new research project brings him back to his home town and to the company of a very peculiar castaway. After he decides to help the mysterious man settle into what is conventionally regarded as a normal life, new bonds are formed and a journey of rediscovery unfolds.AU inspired by Masafumi Nagasaki, real-life Robinson Crusoe.





	1. Chapter 1

The sky was cloudy over Tottori when the plane began its descent through successive layers of grey and white. It had been a while since Makoto had taken this flight. In the past half year, he had just been stuck in Tokyo engulfed in work, but on previous trips back home he had preferred the train, despite the fact that it took six times longer. The truth was that even now that his life was headed towards Autumn, Makoto was still a little bit of a scared-y cat.

The winds gave the plane a good shake on the way down, wings tilting side to side during the final approach. He suffered through it until the landing gear finally hit the tarmac. Then, he finally dared to look out the window and catch a glimpse of the ocean and islets nearby. He was home. Mother would surely be in the kitchen by now, preparing a host of delicious treats for her son and his guest. Ren and Ran were now living in Osaka, having each married and started a family. They usually took turns visiting to avoid overcrowding their family home, except during holidays, when one of them would rent an apartment nearby.

Instead of going straight to Iwatobi, though, Makoto went through the terminal and took a taxi to Tottori University Hospital. He was surprised that there were no TV vans or photographers around the premises. The government had done a good job muffling the whole thing. A castaway living alone in a deserted island off the coast for years had finally been evicted. Makoto’s guess was that there was some kind of development planned for the island - maybe a beach resort or casino, or both. A Japanese Robinson Crusoe did not look good in the picture.

At the reception desk he pulled out the letter from the Dean of his faculty, which would grant him access to the research subject. Once he completed accreditation he was finally led upstairs, then through a maze of wide beige corridors, towards the quarantine ward.

“Tashibana sensei, this way please.” 

The nurse opened the door to a hospital room bathed in afternoon light and let him in.

“I will leave you with him now. The patient’s condition is confidential, so please refrain from talking to the media or sharing any photos or footage, or any information on social media.”

“I see. Thank you.”

The case had attracted its share of attention, but in just a month or so, it had completely waned. He figured that the Japanese public was much less fascinated with the idea than he was.

The man in the pictures that emerged after the eviction had been emaciated and dark, with long dark hair and beard. In a documentary filmed months before, he had been completely naked, the perfect image of the savage, straight out of Victorian age colonial exhibitions. In contrast, the man inside the room, right before his eyes, looked so ordinary that we would have mistaken him for any other patient.

Sitting in bed, eyes drawn to the outside world, through the glass panels of the window, a hospital gown loosely draped around his upper body, and a blanket covering his legs. The dark hair had been cropped in a boyish fashion, he was cleanly shaven, his skin had lightened up to a copper hue, as though he had just returned from summer holiday, and a gentler curve of the sternum was evidence of a richer diet.

_So they didn’t just take the man off the island, they intend to take the island off the man._

Makoto took a few steps in and pulled a chair to signal his presence.

“Hello, my name is Tachibana Makoto, I am a professor of human motricity at Tokyo University.”

The reaction was nil. He had expected as much. The documentary had shown the two film makers’ exasperated attempts to communicate with the man. At each question he would throw them a sideway curious look and then go back to whatever task at hand - breaking twigs into a consistent length and piling them up for future use, scaling and filleting fish, then hanging it to dry on a thread tied between trees. Sometimes his naked figure would stand up and walk the short distance between his hut and the beach, dive into the ocean and swim away. The latter was the activity that took up most of his time, and that was the reason why Makoto was now standing by his bed.

“I do research on physical conditioning for competitive swimming and I would like to talk to you about your daily life, diet and swimming habits.”

Maybe it was the mention of swimming, but the man’s eyes left the glare of the window and his face slowly swiveled to face Makoto.

Blue. Clear and pure like the ocean itself. For a moment those blue eyes were locked on his and something inescapable gripped at Makoto’s core. He couldn’t add to his previous statement, speechless as he was. It was only after the man looked away again that Makoto reprised his train of thought.

“I have obtained authorization to visit you during your confinement, and I would like to follow up with the research after you have gone back to your normal life, but I will need your consent to get started.”

This time the man’s gaze stayed safely fixed on the window, but a subtle movement of fingers against sheets signaled something restrained - anger perhaps.

“You must be upset that the government won’t let you live in the island anymore...” he probed, but this time to no reaction. He decided to play his trump card.

“... But if all goes well, in time I might be able to make arrangements for some swimming practice.”

Bingo. The eyes were back on his, staring hard. He seemed to be making a statement without words. Makoto could only assume that he was trying to hold him to that promise (was it even a promise, hedged as it was?).

“Ok, that’s good. I will work on that front. I’ll do my best to make it happen as soon as possible. But I will also need you to try and talk to me a bit. We can go slowly. A question or two each time. Ok...?”

The man lowered his gaze but did not retreat. He looked very young and vulnerable when he replied,

“Ok.”

True to his promise, Makoto didn’t ask much more. He pulled a chair and sat next to the bed. Pulling out a notebook he asked if it was ok to take some measurements. He seemed to be generally uncomfortable with even minimal touch, so Makoto was extra careful when looping his measuring tape around biceps and chest, thighs and waist. He noted down height and weight and asked him to hold a bioelectrical impedance machine.

Later, an assistant came by with his dinner - vegetable soup, rice porridge and a cup of red jelly. Makoto’s nose wrinkled automatically at the sight.

“Is this what you’ve been eating?”

The man nodded.

“Is there anything you would like to eat instead?”

This time there was barely any pause before the reply came.

“Saba.”

There was a small comical smile on Makoto’s lips when he replied,

“Ok, I’ll see what I can do.”

 

* * *

 

 

At the end of the day he took the train from Tottori to Iwatobi. The clouds had cleared and it was a lovely late summer afternoon. The sun set just before the train glided to a halt in front of the familiar Iwatobi sign. Makoto walked home with his mind full of memories – some happy, some painful. He remembered walking these same steps a couple of years back, just in time to kiss his father goodbye. After the mourning was done, mother’s demeanor had acquired a certain melancholy. He climbed the stairs up the winding path eager to see her face, where wrinkles had certainly multiplied, but still, to him, the distinctive face of love. True to his prediction, she opened the door and then her arms, to welcome her son in a tight embrace. Only then did she usher him in.

“Come darling, your friend is here."

Her acceptance of the life he’d chosen never ceased to endear him. In the living room, sitting comfortably with a sports newspaper draped over his lap, was Yamazaki Sousuke. His first greeting was a roguish smile.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey there yourself,” the deep voice replied.

Years of life had only added to Sousuke’s appeal. His eyes were now gracefully framed by a few thin wrinkles, and silver threads peppered his short thick locks. It had been a while since they had last seen each other. Sousuke had left Tokyo to coach the Samezuka swimming team a few months ago and Makoto had been unable to take time off to come home.

For a moment he was torn between pulling an apron and helping his mom and plopping down on the sofa. Sousuke, however, had a different plan.

“Do you want to go for a walk or something?”

He looked at his mom, but from the kitchen door she waved with her hand, shooing his away.

“Sure,” he answered.

They stepped out, putting on sweaters to protect them from the evening chill. When the path moved away from the agglomeration of houses and into the grove, they twined their fingers.

Makoto and Sousuke had met during highschool, when Makoto was still in Iwatobi and Sousuke was going to Samezuka, but it was only in Tokyo that they really got to know each other - Sousuke coming to terms with the shoulder injury that killed his competitive swimming dreams, Makoto adjusting to the idea that he simply did not have the drive to pursue that dream himself. They had first clashed, then bonded over those same topics. They also made other discoveries about themselves that brought them even closer. So, when they got together it was not an earth-shattering kind of thing, but rather something soothing and mutually beneficial. They sated their desires in each other and, through the years, came to recognize their bond as love, although they never came to live their life as a couple.

“I missed you,” Sousuke whispered, eyes on the dark sky.

“And I missed you,” Makoto replied.

“You sure I should stay at your mother’s? I can go back to Samezuka.”

“Mom and I have no secrets, you know that. It’s fine. Plus, I just had the attic revamped as a little studio and I think you’re going to like it.”

Sousuke pulled their joined hands up to his lips and gingerly kissed the tips of Makoto’s fingers.

“You are a wonderful man. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say stuff like that. I might start wondering what you’ve been up to.”

Sousuke sighed and looked away. So there was something. Makoto eyed him questioningly.

“Inappropriate crushes on high-school students,” he stated mater of factly.

“Huh?” Makoto was clearly not expecting such a quick admission.

“Fast, sharp, huge potential, ridiculously handsome and wild as hell.”

Makoto raised an eyebrow. He didn’t want to judge, but Sousuke seemed too close to crossing a line that he really should not cross.

“Don’t get yourself in trouble.”

“I won’t. I know how to control myself.”

Makoto chuckled.

“You don’t believe me?”

“How old?”

“Eighteen. Senior year. Flubbed nationals. Last ditch effort.”

“I see.”

“It’s not like that. I want to help him. He reminds me so much of how I used to be. I don’t want him to implode. He has all these Olympic dreams… cries over it if the mood is right. I want him to make it.”

“And I’m sure you will.”

Sousuke seemed happy to end the topic at that, as he gave Makoto’s hand a light squeeze and changed subject.

“What about your Robinson Crusoe?”

And just with that, the fluttery feeling underneath Makoto’s core muscles came back.

“He’s…”

Beautiful. Ethereal. Out of this world. Hardly the right words to describe a subject of research. Sousuke had been so honest, and now he was being a coward for no reason. Sousuke was starting to look at him suspiciously, so he settled on “Unusual”.

The other man shook his head and chuckled.

“That must be the understatement of the year.”

 

* * *

 

 

On his second trip to Tottori University Hospital, Makoto found his research subject standing by the window, pulling his ankle behind his back in a light stretch. He was still wearing the hospital gown, so there was a lot of skin exposed underneath the loosely tied laces along his spine. Judging from his state of undress in the island, Makoto figured that nudity was not among the man’s worries.

“Nice to see you on your feet,” he greeted. “How have you been?”

The reply was a direct glance into his eyes, full of irony, full of sadness. He felt his shoulders slump.

“Did you get any saba at least?”

A nod.

“Good.”

The man finished his stretches and climbed back onto the bed almost dutifully. Makoto could not even try to imagine what it must feel like, to go from utter freedom to solitary confinement. For the thousandth time he reminded himself of academic detachment, and pulled his laptop out of the bag.

Later in the day Makoto found himself sitting opposite a quirky pair, in a little dessert cafe in Iwatobi, spoon braving through layers of rainbow colored ice cream and toppings. 

The two film makers that had authored the documentary about the castaway turned out to be more of a multipurpose duo, having teamed up in almost everything since their high school days.

“Rei-chan and I used to be part of the swimming club in school and dolphin-chan was quite an urban myth at the time - so much that we had to go check for ourselves. So, in truth, this project goes way back!”

“Dolphin-chan?”

“Oh, no one knows who he is, so we just started calling him that, for convenience.”

“ _You_ started calling him that,” the other one – Rei – a bespectacled quieter type, clarified.

 “So you went to the island before shooting?” Makoto asked, picking up on the beginning of their conversation.

“That is correct,” Rei replied, pausing to adjust his glasses. “Several times. But, in truth, the first time we encountered him was accidental. We had a training camp during our first year in high school. We stayed overnight in a training centre, but our practice included an open water swim to Iruka-jima. It was less than a kilometer distance, but I couldn’t make it.”

Rei fell silent and the other one - Nagisa, a youthful chatty fellow - picked up without a hitch.

“Rei-chan was still upset about it when we went to sleep that night. Later on, I woke up with the sound of rain on the window, and Rei-chan was nowhere to be found. We had to let our teachers know and they immediately contacted the coast guard. The boats raked the area for the whole night. We feared the worse. It was well after the sun rose that a student from another school came running to our dorms, saying they had found Rei-chan alive and well, lying on the beach.”

And again they swapped, seamless. Makoto was starting to enjoy this.

“I can only remember flashes of what happened that night. My silly effort to swim to Iruka-jima all alone, in the middle of the night, the beginning of a drizzle, the waves swelling and throwing me off course... the notion that I would drown and die - so real, so close... And then I was being towed away by someone else. I thought it was Nagisa-kun or one of the sempais... but it wasn’t. It was a strange man, with long black hair and blue eyes that reflected the moonlight. And then I must have passed out, because the next I remember was waking up in the hospital...”

“Fascinating,” he commented sincerely. “Do you know if anyone else had come into contact with him, or might know his identity?”

“Well,” Nagisa said, “if he were from around here, someone would have noticed the disappearance, so people usually guess that he was tourist, from Tokyo or from China…”

“What do you think?”

“According to my research,” it was Rei this time, “going by age and appearance, he could have attended an old swimming club in town. On one year, they won all the races in the prefectural meet, and a particular boy appears in some of the podium photos. However, the club was to be closed and turned into a resort some years ago, so all the membership records pior to that were destroyed. It’s a miracle that the photos on the walls were never taken down. But that’s it, we have no way to know who that was.”

“Was that Iwatobi SC?” Makoto asked, incredulous.

“Exactly! It is now called ITSC Returns.”

Makoto giggled.

“That’s my old swimming club. I even worked there as an assistant coach for a short while”

“Ahhhh?” Nagisa almost lunged over the table to stare at Makoto, “When was that?”

“Hmmm...” Makoto mused, “I was probably seventeen, so... 28 years ago?”

“Oh, I wasn’t even born then,” Nagisa chucked. “But maybe Dolphin-kun was already there at that time...”

Makoto gulped. He had been too busy at the time, thinking about his future, trying to make sense of it, that he hadn’t been the best coach. Still, someone with such outstanding swimming skills ought to have caught his attention.

“So,” he turned his attention to the list of questions in his notebook, “how did you come to the figure? A marathon a day...”

Rei took the lead again.

“It was by simple observation and induction”.

“The castaway lived in Irako-jima, which is quite small, so its resources could be depleted quite fast. There are two other islands nearby, from which one can collect fruits and other plants. They are, each, two kilometers apart. From the second one you can reach a small rocky island, which is at a distance of 4 km from Irako-jima. This is the best place for fishing. So, if in a day he visited all islands, that would be a 10 km swim.”

“Thank you Ryugazaki-san. That was very helpful.”

 

* * *

 

 

The meeting with the power duo had been intense, but Makoto caught himself smiling for no reason all the way home. Sure they had shared a lot of useful insight, but his good mood was more likely a result of Nagisa’s boundless energy and Rei’s calm determination. They were indeed a good match - in whatever they were to each other.

But his smile could only widen when he went home, kissed his mother goodnight and climbed the three flights of stairs leading to the attic, only to find his king size bed occupied by a broad-shouldered swimming coach, reading a book under a warm lamplight.

Sousuke looked up from his reading and grinned.

“Had a good day?”

Makoto nodded, breath hitching at the sight of the other man’s bare pectorals, uncovered by the thin sheets, and the contours of that strong body under the sheets.

“Like what you see?”

“You know I do.”

“Join in.”

Makoto obliged, after removing all his clothes, without hurry, and neatly draping them over the wooden rack. They might have never been star-crosses lovers, but there was never anything bland or cold about it either. As they tangled limbs under the sheets, the beautiful castaway and - Makoto dared to assume - Sousuke’s handsome new pupil, were both quickly forgotten.

Sousuke did not claim his lips, because both of them knew where they would go first. Slowly, wordlessly, with a reverence that never ceased to make Sousuke’s heart ache, Makoto pressed a kiss to Sousuke’s shoulder, right atop the thin fading scar, that had been the end and the beginning of everything. “The most care for where it hurts the most”, he had repeated over the years, until the pain had finally gone. Sousuke closed his eyes and let himself be swayed into the kiss that finally met his lips, hot and needy, wondering if he could ever pay back all the times that Makoto had saved him.


	2. Through a glass, darkly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self-harm and pseudo-intellectual titles  
> (nothing graphic, but please be warned)

 

_“Matsuoka!”_

Seven hours in a coach had left Sousuke’s back sore and his limbs numb. Next time, he would definitely drive his own car and leave the bus for the kiddies. He was too old for this. He was especially too old and tired to be going around the dark corridors of a boy’s school looking for a student.

Right as the bus door opened at the parking lot, Matsuoka had bolted out of the vehicle and into parts unknown. Sousuke had expected as much. Dead last in the 100m fly, 4th in the 200. But before he could think of looking for the boy, he had a team to debrief. It was quick and formal and all the kids quickly sleepwalked to their dorms. He saw Nitori, Rin’s roommate, standing in the corridor looking around, Their eyes met. For a shy-ish kid, the way those blue eyes held his was louder than any other plea. 

He walked outside, around the grove, then skirted the compound, looking intently, but still found no trace of the red head. The classroom building was too big and dark, and probably locked for the night, so he didn’t consider going there. They had gathered in the club room, but he had not properly checked the natatorium. He decided to give it a last try.

He started with the pool and found the area empty, then walked down the corridor to the dressing rooms, and that’s where he heard it, faint and muffled by the walls - a sound of pouring water.

He called out again, knuckles resting over the locker room door,

“Matsuoka, are you in there?”

There was no answer, not that he’d expected any. And so he finally opened the door and stepped in. The room would be completely dark, if not for the faint traces of moonlight filtered through narrow frosted glass windows. He moved through rows of benches and lockers, noticing as the sound became closer. He vaguely remember that the showers were in the back, behind a tiled wall, and navigated the dark space until the communal row of showers came into view. The water came from the furthest stall, where a lonely figure was kneeling beneath the spray.

As he edged closer, Sousuke could catch a glimpse of bare skin and competition jammers. The boy seemed completely focused on whatever task was at hand - his head slumped down to his clavicle, one hand pulling down the fabric just enough to bare a hipbone, the other gripping a small square object and carving it into the exposed spot. Sousuke stood behind the kneeling boy, taking in the eerie scene, watching the corner of the square object dig harder into the boy’s skin.

When shaky fingers slightly tilted the object just a notch, Sousuke saw himself reflected in the small square. Right when his brain was processing it - a mirror, Rin is hurting himself with a mirror - he saw burgundy irises meet his through the glass. The boy’s hands went slack and the mirror fell on the floor tile.

It was enough to break the spell. Sousuke killed the shower with a punch and clamped a hand over the offended hip, then carefully removed it, confirming that the skin had not been breached. He finally pulled the boy to his chest, ignoring the dampness that seeped into the fabric of his shirt, his trousers, the skin that was ice cold in his arms.

“Rin.” The boy’s given name slipped past his lips, just as his fingers combed wet red strands away from his eyes.

“I fucked up,” he said weakly, and started to cry.

Sousuke only left when a semblance of normality had returned to the boy’s behavior. He watched from the end of the corridor as the boy entered his room and a loud (and relieved) call of “Rin-sempai” echoed in the silence.

The next morning, while the other students were going their separate ways for summer break, Sousuke drove Rin to his mother’s place. He paused outside the house just long enough to witness the tight hug that engulfed the boy, from both a younger and older female version of himself. Sousuke still felt uneasy as he drove away. Inside the car’s glove compartment there was small squarish mirror, put there to be forgotten. Yet, Sousuke could not bring himself to stop thinking about it. The boy had promised not to do it again, and Sousuke had believed him, but what he had witnessed could not be erased, and his mind would not be at ease until he saw Rin again safe and sound.

 

* * *

 

The sound of melodic chirping slowly brought him back to wakefulness. The window in Makoto’s room was entirely covered by a tree’s canopy,  bustling with morning birds. He felt warm and rested, and traces of last night’s pleasures still lingered on his body. The recollection of that night slowly faded as he opened his eyes and his vision slowly focused on Makoto, seating on the edge of the bed and naked from the waist up, applying some cream over his face and neck.

“Good morning Makoto.”

The other man briefly interrupted his grooming to look over the shoulder, eyes bright.

“Good morning, Sou-kun.”

“How are you feeling?” He asked the other man.

Makoto hummed, but didn’t look back this time. He ran a comb through his brown hair, that always ended up tousled anyway. Despite them being the same age, Makoto didn’t have nearly as many whites as he did.

“Going to Tottori again? I’ll drive you…”

Judging by the vivid memories of the night that just passed, Makoto would be in no condition for a cumbersome commute. As if to corroborate this judgement, the man stood up and limped to the dresser to get his watch, But still he said,

“It’s fine. I can take the train.”

One week had passed since nationals. He would finally head to Samezuka to meet Rin.

“It’s not much of a detour from Samezuka, so it’s not a problem.”

Makoto then turned his whole body to face Sousuke, who was still sprawled on their king sized bed.

“Samezuka? Have classes started early this year?”

For all his boyish demeanour, Sousuke knew Makoto was no fool. There was no point in hiding it from him anyway, but Makoto didn’t wait for an answer.

“It’s nice to see you motivated, Sou-kun.”

“Yeah, I can’t retire before I’ve made at least one olympian, now, can I…?”

Makoto winked and smiled. “ _Gambatte._ ”

 

* * *

 

Driving to Tottori was a welcome distraction from his nagging worries. Sousuke took a side glance at the man on the passenger seat, sipping on lukewarm tea from his thermos. The nerdy get-up suited him – brown slacks, plaid shirt and glasses. He pressed a bit deeper on the accelerator, engine purring down the sunkissed road.

When they stopped outside Tottori University Hospital, Makoto leaned sideways and kissed him right at edge of his lips. Seeing the man walk out humming and smiling sent a jolt of pain through him. Now, as he drove away on his own, he couldn’t lie to himself about what took him to Samezuka.

Sousuke had been drawn to Rin from his very first training session with the Samezuka team. He had blamed it on a mid-life crisis thathis eyes often darted to the boy with the warm red hair and angsty demeanour.Rin was a good swimmer, strong and hard-working - when he wasn’t picking fights with team mates, acting agro to the teachers or keeping a distance from everyone else.

Prefecturals and regionals had held some promise for the young flyer - silver and bronze medals and some calls from Japanese universities. But in the running up to nationals all had come crashing down, for unknown reasons. The boy’s mood had been off, his head far away from it all. The results were disastrous, times far from his best. Sousuke had known for a while that Rin’s immediate goal was going back to Australia, where he had lived and trained during middle school. With his current times, though, that was not realistic. He would either have to improve significantly during his senior year, or settle for one of the local scouting offers.

Sousuke didn’t know when he had gotten so invested on this boy’s dream, but ever since the scene in the shower, his heart clenched at the thought of Rin, and it was with a sense of unease that he finally killed the engine in the parking lot next to the main entrance of Samezuka Academy. The compound was quiet, as classes would not start for another couple of weeks. He locked the car and walked past the gate. There were a few scattered groups of students here and there. All picture-perfect, well-coifed, impeccably masculine-looking boys. It was possibly the straightest college he had ever been to. 

At first sight, Rin might have seem to fit the bill - physically fit, ambitious - but Sousuke knew better. It wasn’t for nothing that those annoying gray strands kept taking over his head. Rin was conflicted and insecure and let all of that seep through his temper outbursts. There were still pieces of the puzzle that he hadn’t quite figured out, but he told himself that he would come around to unveil them, eventually.

He found Rin waiting on a bench near the main building. His ruby hair was half concealed by a black hoodie and large headphones. He was in street clothes – a grey t-shirt and black ripped jeans.

“Yo,” he greeted.

“Coach.” The boy gave him a small salute, an ironic smirk coming and going.

They walked together to the natatorium, even though Rin was ostensibly unprepared for practice. They ended up sitting in silence under a tree in a small grove within the academy grounds.

“Speak,” Sousuke finally urged.

“What about?”

Sousuke didn’t dignify that with an answer. He waited.

“It won’t happen again, ok? Losing… and losing it. I…”

“I want to trust you, Rin, but you need to do better than that. Did you tell your mother?”

“No, of course not.”

Sousuke swallowed a sigh.

“Answer with honesty. Was it the first time?”

Rin lowered his head, his voice coming out muffled.

“No.”

“When?”

“Back in Australia…” he shook his head, “when all I did was lose.”

“How can I help you? I can hear whatever you want to say and keep it a secret if that’s what you need.”

“No. Make me fast. That’s enough.”

Sousuke couldn’t decide if the answer was satisfactory. The kid seemed, somehow, to be in the process of getting his shit together. Perhaps the best would be to get him in the pool, but it puzzled him that his pupil would come unprepared for the main purpose of their meeting. He realised he was eyeing the boy again. Their eyes met, but immediately Rin withdrew.

“What?” He asked, defensively.

Sousuke couldn’t hold a small chuckle.

“Are you on a strike, Matsuoka-kun?”

“Huh?”

Sousuke flicked his gaze up and down.

“Oh.” Rin said. “I couldn’t assume you would still… you know, after everything…”

Sousuke was unsure if Rin meant the bad races or the self-harm. While ostensibly treating all the swimmers in the team equally, Sousuke had always lingered in the pool just a little longer, watching as Rin kept swimming after the others had left. He would sit at his small desk doing paperwork, and eventually walk over to the poolside to offer a tip or two. It was not private training in any way, it was just a meek reward for his hard work, but now Rin was nervous about it - about the possibility of losing it.

“You do own some sort of swimming suit, I suppose…”

Rin finally took his eyes off the gravel and gave him a blank stare.

“Go put it on,” Sousuke urged.

He didn’t have to wait any longer. He watched Rin disappear in the direction of the dorms, then pulled himself off the bench and started walking to the natatorium.

 

* * *

 

The expression of confusion in Rin’s face was comical in its mix of knitted brows and pursed lips. Sousuke was already waiting by the pool, balancing a pair of goggles on his index finger, and wearing black leg skins with streaks of cobalt blue.

“You’re going to race me.” The boy finally voiced.

“Of course not.”

The frown of confusion intensified.

“So, what?… We’re gonna swim _together_... for fun?”

Sousuke chuckled. He could relate. At 18 the idea of a leisure swim would have seemed just as outrageous.

“Come on, indulge an old man.”

Reluctantly, Rin stepped onto the block and they jumped in. Even at 45, Sousuke was still a competent flier, and his wider arm range gave him a slight edge against the boy. Nevertheless, they didn’t quite race. Rin didn’t go all out and Sousuke knew better than to push himself too hard. They stopped after a few laps, at the shallow edge of the pool. One after the other, they pulled the googles away and panted softly until their breathing was back to a comfortable level.

The pool was atypically silent, without all the activities that wouldn’t start for a few more weeks. That silence was momentarily interrupted by the swirling of water down Rin’s body as he pulled himself to sit on the wall, legs dangling next to Sousuke’s shoulders.

“Does it still bother you? That old injury?”

They had talked about Sousuke's shoulder once, but it had never occurred to him that the boy would have dwelled on something like that. Sousuke looked up at him. Bathed in the soft light of the domed building, Rin looked almost angelic, a halo of red around his chiseled face.

“No, not after the surgery.”

“But you never returned… to swimming competitively.”

“No.”

Sousuke pulled himself out of the pool and sat side by side with his pupil. “Would you have raced me, if we’d met back then… before I quit?”

“Hell yeah. You were the best high school flier. Anyone would have raced you, just to get the title.”

“Just for that?” He queried, quirking an eyebrow.

Rin didn't answer, but Sousuke thought that we was beginning to understand Rin just a little bit better. He lifted his hand and let the palm rest on Rin’s shoulder for just a fraction of a second.

“Alright. You’re off the hook for today. Tomorrow I’m bringing the videos from nationals. You better get ready for an earful.”

Rin’s ears promptly turned red, but the edge was slightly blunted. It was embarrassment, not anguish. The boy nodded.

“Good. Take care of yourself. See you tomorrow.”

“Hai,” he nodded again, knowing he was dismissed, and walked away.

 

* * *

 

 

Rin’s muscles felt warm after his first training session of the term. With all that talk of indulging an old man, Yamazaki had worked him good and sweet. Damn geezer, looking all fit in those expensive leg skins of his. One day he would make a move on the old man, if only just to know what it’s like to flirt with authority.

Right. Because that was something he could do now - make passes on men. Why had it been so damned hard anyway? It was just a word, he was not the first, nor the last. But with just a small shift in the ether of the world, he suddenly felt like another person. Was he still Rin Matsuoka? Did he still have a dream?

He laid down on his bunk and thought of the old man again. It was a sort of general knowledge in the small cosmos of Japanese high school swimming, that the guy was into men. Not that Rin was the best informed, having returned to Japan just a year ago, but there was a fair amount of gossip going around in locker rooms, especially at meets. Was he the type to take advantage of eager young students? Not that he'd heard of, but the thought still managed to mess with him in a sort of primal way. He remembered the shower room, the water pouring over him, and the way the coach's body had enveloped his. The solid mass of muscle under thin fabric, his own naked skin. Suddenly the memory was distorted by fantasy and he pictured himself making contact with other parts of the man's body. Kneeling under that tepid spray while putting his mouth to work on an older man's cock.

It was still new to him, the acceptance of the idea that this kind of thought made him horny. Sliding his hand under his waistband was just the confirmation of the fact. It had been the result of a hard fight with himself - a fight that had diverted considerable energy from the more important task of fulfilling his dreams. And that's what made him so angry. It made him want to hurt himself, just to feel a bit better.

But Yamazaki had taken the mirror. 

His eyes glanced at the usual mess on his kouhai’s desk. On the far corner, between stacks of books, there was a wire mesh cup full of pens, some with colorful tokens sticking out of the bundle. Buried in the middle was a pair of scissors.

His hand was still resting inside his pants. It struck him that the same person he was about to jack off too had been the one who'd saved him from his own assault. What would have happened if no one had found him? If it had been anybody else? Yamazaki had helped him, and had not whispered a word to anyone. His mind drifted to his mother and Gou, and the time they had spent together that week. They had climbed the hill together in Iwatobi, and visited his father. Back then, he had vowed to put everything else behind him and regain the drive to succeed. Did he still have that resolve? He felt a sickening kind of shame, lying there in the dark of a dorm room, wasting time. He forcefully peeled his eyes from the scissors and his hand from his cock. He pulled himself off the bed and went for a run.

 

* * *

 

“How are holding up?” Sousuke asked with a guilty smile, when the door opened outside one of Tottori’s department stores and a tired Makoto plopped down on the seat next to him.

“Not too bad, but I think I’m in for an early night.”

“Sure, we can read books and cuddle.”

Makoto hummed in reply, while tucking a bunch of paper bags between his legs.

“Shopping?”

“Clothes.”

“More cute professor shirts?”

“No." Makoto chuckled. "A track suit, jammers, some t-shirts and a pair of jeans…”

Sousuke raised an eyebrow, eyes still on the road.

“They’re not for me.”

Makoto’s attempt at suspense was endearing but utterly unsuccessful.

“And why are you buying clothes for your research subject?”

“Don’t say it like that! It sounds like I’m conducting human experiments!”

“Aren’t you?”

“No!” Makoto almost yelled, staring at him pointedly. “I don’t conduct human experiments. It’s a case study.”

“Right,” he chuckled, “so why are you buying clothes for your case study?”

Makoto paused for a beat, fidgeting with the bags.

“His quarantine is coming to an end…”

Sousuke frowned. He was beginning to suspect that his friend had just made some unwise decisions. “Makoto...”

“The head nurse told me the prefectural government was going to put him one of those estates they build for the elderly... give him a studio there or something... Sou, he’s not ready to be alone, anyone can see that...”

“Makoto, using a pet name on me won’t make this sound any less stupid.”

“I know... but... they said that if something happens they’ll just throw him in a mental hospital. It’s too cruel. That man used to be absolutely free...”

“What did you do exactly?”

Makoto took an audible breath. “I got permission for him to stay with me for now… for research purposes…”

“For research purposes? What are you going to research during the night? His breathing patterns?”

“No, I just want to make sure he doesn’t jump back in the ocean and swim away for good! Won’t make much of a _research subject_ if he goes missing, right?”

He was caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

“Sorry, Makoto, I didn’t-”

“No, don’t… I know this is inappropriate and I’ve beaten myself over it since I opened my mouth to propose it this morning, but…”

“But you can’t help it.”

Makoto nodded.

“Then don’t sweat it. We’ll figure it out. I’m curious to meet that merman myself.”

“He’s not a merman, Sousuke. He’s a human,” the professor chastised, but his voice was somewhat lighter.

“What should I call him, then? Have you got a name yet?”

“No. He won’t open up about himself, family, or his past. No one has a clue… except perhaps Ryugazaki. He’s got a lead, but it’s not much to work with, I’m afraid…”

“So, what - are you going to keep calling him castaway? Why don’t you give him a number? But don’t start at 1 - that’s lame. What about Eleven?”

“Sousuke!” Makoto whined, and Sousuke started laughing.

“Nagisa, the filmmaker I told you about, calls him Iruka-chan, because he swims like a dolphin, and he used to live in Iruka-jima. I found it endearing, but didn’t get around to calling him that. It sounds a bit silly, doesn’t it?”

“A dolphin with no name…” Sousuke mused.

“Hmm.”

They had finally reached the parking lot closest to Makoto’s place. From there it was still a bit of hike through narrow slopes. They walked at leisurely pace, chatting idly.

Makoto’s mother had the table set when they arrived. The way the gentle lady treated him like family always made Sousuke feel a bit guilty. In years of friendship, of being together, never had Makoto requested for any labels. If anything, they had always been on a long term open relationship. And that had always sounded perfectly fine... in Tokyo. Coming to Iwatobi, though... sitting at the dining table at the Tachibana home, lighting joss sticks with Makoto on his father’s memorial... he felt like an imposter.

“Sousuke, dear, please do take a seat.”

The meal was a well balanced ensemble of dishes, not too bland, not too heavy. He ate with pleasure, despite the awkwardness. Makoto had obviously read his mind the moment they stepped into the house, but he didn’t make any remarks until they finished their meal, chatted for a while around the table, and finally excused themselves. They were halfway up the wooden stairs when Makoto whispered close to his ear,

“You do know you don’t have to put a ring on it to be part of the family, right?”

That caught him slightly off guard, and he had to bring his hand to the banister for a second, before turning back and planting a kiss on Makoto’s forehead.

“I know. I always feel welcome here. Thank you.”

He held Makoto’s hand until they finally emerged on the highest floor. Makoto’s little haven was as welcoming as the man himself, with the warm hues of varnished wood, and a nice choice of carpets and other home textiles. There were some mementos here and there, of travels and friends, but it didn’t look cluttered.

After shower, they climbed onto the bed and set out to read and cuddle, as planned. Sousuke grabbed for his book, Makoto for his iPad. He had skimmed through a few pages when Makoto put away the tablet and let his torso slide down until only his head was perched on the heap of pillows.

“What about Iru?”

“Hmm?”

“Iru,” Makoto clarified, “like dolphin - iruka - but shortened…”

Sousuke laughed softly. He took off his reading glasses and laid the book on the bedside table.

“Yeah, that has a nice ring to it. You can ask him if he likes it.”

“I will. Tomorrow.”

And with a kiss, the lights went out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I realised I had marked the fic as finished, but just fixed that. I hope you like it and please leave me your thoughts in the comment box :)  
> The pseudo-intellectual chapter title is a movie by Ingmar Bergman.  
> Next up: The castaway meets a certain high school swimmer. Fireworks ensue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a new name and a makeshift home, the castaway is set out into the world anew. It falls on Makoto to guide him in this new phase. Will the attention of an obstinate young swimmer put everything in jeopardy?

Perhaps to keep things contained and secretive, only a handful of nurses would attend to the castaway. In a few weeks of visits, Makoto had become familiar with their names and mannerisms. Ono was all business, Sakurai was flirty, Matsuda had the beatific aura of an old nun and Kondo was eternally waiting for the end of her shift. On the day of discharge, they were all gathered inside the small room, together with Dr. Miura.

“Good morning!” he said, so as to announce his arrival.

“Oh! Tachibana Sensei, Good morning!” the old doctor answered. “We ran a last checkup. Glucose is still lower than average, so please encourage him to eat rice and some sweets. I prescribed some vitamins and skin care products, so make sure he is using them.”

Makoto nodded, entering the room. Through the hustle bustle of the last preparations, he saw the man, sitting on his bed, hands resting on his lap, like a prince.

“Big day, huh?” Blue eyes rose up, hopeful, clinging to his for some sense of safety. “I brought you some clothes. I hope they are ok, we can get you some more later...”

He took the paper bag offered by Makoto and peeked into it. One by one he inspected the t-shirt, the hooded sweater, the jeans, and the soft cotton boxers. Then, with the door still open and people coming and going, he disposed of the hospital jinbei and stood naked by the bed. One by one, meticulously, he put on all the clothes he’d taken from the bag.

Having lived so long in the wild, it was difficult to picture this man as some regular folk, living a regular life. But at that moment, standing in the busy room, clad in pastel blues and denin, he was the boy next door, who had somehow been plucked out of an ordinary existence and into the pages of a fantastic book.

Makoto had borrowed Sousuke’s car, so, as soon as they completed all formalities, he led the man to the parking lot. Just as in the hospital room, as soon as he was in the car, the man’s eyes darted to the window and stayed there.

Makoto played soft music, something jazzy and quite telling of his age, and drove in silence. He didn’t think of much, relishing in the relaxed focus of operating the vehicle. The road to Iwatobi brought them through some scenic bends and seaside stretches, where he would take quick glances at his passenger, the serene visage facing away, framed by black locks, cropped a few days ago.

“When can I swim?” he suddenly asked.

They were driving along the coast, and at some points the expanse of blue ocean seemed to envelop them whole.

“Today I just want us to settle down, but I have something planned for tomorrow.”

“There?” he pointed at the sea.

His tone was hopeful, a bit anxious even.

“In a pool... I’m sorry, I don’t think open water...”

“Ok,” and he turned his face away again.

 

* * *

 

 

The house was quiet when they arrived. It was close to lunch time, so Makoto went looking for the ingredients he had prepared earlier. The man watched curiously as he seared two fillets of mackerel and melted butter in a pan. He served the fish with just green salad for himself and with a nice pile of steamed rice for his guest.

“Itadakimasu!” they echoed, and dug in, sitting face to face around the kitchen table.

Makoto had hoped for a good reaction, but was surprised with the pleasure in the man’s face.

“It’s good,” he said, while chewing.

“I’m glad. The sauce is called meuniere. It’s French.”

He nodded and proceeded to eat it up until the last speck.

After lunch Makoto spread a map of the coast and outlying islands on the coffee table. He wanted to get more detail on the man’s daily commute while on the island, so he marked Iruka-jima with a red circle and then pointed to the other islets that Nagisa and Rei had mentioned. There were others not far off, mostly just barren rocks. The man ran a finger over the outline of the island that was shaped like a dolphin.

“Home,” he said.

Then, he pointed at another place and said, “Saba”.  After that, his finger went back and forth, tracing patterns, until he pulled back his hand, looking confused.

“Did you swim a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Just to find food or also for fun?”

He looked pensive, then said “free”.

“I see. You also liked to swim on your free time, isn’t it?”

He considered, frowned, but then just nodded.

 

* * *

 

It was past 5pm when Sousuke arrived. After somewhat adapting to Makoto’s discreet presence, it was natural that the man would seem intimidated by the new arrival. Makoto knew Sousuke very well, but also knew that he was not immediately friendly to strangers. He coaxed his partner to sit on the sofa, across from where he sat next to the castaway.

“Makoto, what am I supposed to call him? Have you asked him yet?”

Makoto stilled. He had completely forgotten. In his mind, the man had just become Iru since the night past. He decided to test the word out loud.

“Iru… do you mind if we call you Iru?”

“I-ru?” he pronounced as a question, a strange, pensive expression in his face, as though remembering something remote. Then, he nodded.

“Ok, so we have a name! Now, shall we talk about tomorrow, Sousuke?”

Iru – now officially named - listened attentively as they planned their trip to Samezuka Academy. Sousuke would bring them in before his session with Rin. They would return by train and wait for Sousuke at home. He caught some back and forth staring between Iru and Sousuke, but it wasn’t animosity, rather a sort of mutual curiosity. Iru was in the best mood he’d seen him in yet, so Makoto was happy the whole evening.

After dinner, they sat for a while in front of the TV, but when it became clear that all were tired, Makoto showed Iru to Ren’s room, before climbing the stairs to where Sousuke was waiting for him.

They turned off the lights and kissed goodnight, but Makoto’s thoughts kept thundering in his head like a storm. What if something were to happen during the night? Makoto wondered if this was in any way similar to bringing home a baby from the hospital. That was still an exercise in adulthood that being an older brother could not match. He felt that Iru was in his charge in a way that Ran and Ren had never been. Iru had a disarming kind of fragility to him. He was resilient and resourceful, but his needs and desires were too simple. How could someone so at odds with a society of duties and ambitions survive in a such an environment? Would he eventually get a job, sustain himself, fit in? How could Makoto guide him? Should he even attempt such a thing?

His tumultuous reflections came to a halt with what, in the silence of the night, sounded too much like the door lock. Sousuke was asleep, lying on the side and facing away. Makoto cursed himself for being so careless, while pulling himself up and shivering with the loss of warmth. Just a quick check and he’d be back soon.

He went down the stairs and walked the hall to Ren’s room. The door was open, the room was empty. He didn’t think, heart suddenly galloping in his chest, just pulled a jacket from the hanger by the door and went outside.

The stairway along the slope was dimly lit, painted with shadows. Makoto suppressed an urge to run back inside. He had always been such a scaredy cat. But there was not time for childish fears. He took one step into the darkness, then another. As the path rose towards the shrine, his eyes came upon a figure in the dark. Iru was standing still, dressed only in the long sleeve and pajama pants Makoto had given him, barefoot. As he climbed a few more steps he could discern the expression in his face as one of pain and confusion. He looked fixedly at the same old Japanese house, one that Makoto couldn’t even remember being there. He threaded carefully as he drew near. One step closer, then another, and Iru finally noticed him, but he didn’t look back, instead, is eyes fell to the floor, and then, past Makoto’s figure and up the path, wistfully.

“Iru…” he probed.

The spell was momentarily broken and Iru brought his eyes to level with his own.

“Sensei…”

“Makoto… you can call me by my given name,” he corrected on impulse.

“Makoto,” Iru repeated.

With a very light touch on the shoulder, Makoto coaxed him back down the path. His skin was cold and dry.

“We should apply that sunburn cream they gave you…”

Iru looked at him curiously.

“So that your skin can go back to normal,” he supplied.

“Hah,” he consented.

Back in the room, Makoto realized that the suggestion had been his worst decision of the night, as he found himself leaning over Iru’s bare back and spreading dollops of aloe vera cream on soft sun kissed skin. He went through the core arguments of his latest paper twice, then mentally recited the ingredients for mom’s weekend curry, and ended up revisiting the memory of his frog dissecting classes in high school.

… But he still could not shake off the fact that Iru was gorgeous. The footage from Nagisa and Rei’s documentary had showed him in a disheveled, survival mode, but having re-watched it several times now, it was clear that he had been a sight even then. Now, all groomed and slick under his touch, strong lean muscles covered in golden velvet… it was really not fair.

“Does this feel good?”

He had half given up on not feeling aroused and decided to give the man a back rub. Maybe he’d feel better afterwards.

Iru purred.

“I thought you didn’t like to be touched.”

Silence. Skin and a very thin adipose layer shifting under his finger pads.

“I trust you, Makoto.”

His fingers froze, a knot tightened in his throat, and lucid realization fell upon him. He released the air in his lungs and forcefully pulled his fingers away. It would be ok. He could do this.

“Sure. How about some tea? I hope you can sleep better now.”

 

* * *

 

Passing the gates of Samezuka Academy brought back old memories of joint practices, when he had still harbored the dream of competitive swimming. This is where he first met Sousuke, back then still bearing alone the burden of his secret injury, his broken dream.

He walked with Iru by his side, navigating the renovated facilities with the help of Sousuke’s instructions and a few scattered signs. When they reached the pool, Sousuke was waiting for them by the door, in full coach mode, complete with track suit, stop watch and whistle. Makoto tried to suppress a giggle but didn’t fully succeed. Sousuke edged close to his ear and whispered, “if we weren’t in public you’d have your butt smacked for that.” And out loud he urged them in.

As promised, they had the pool all to themselves for the time being. Iru was wearing a pair of jammers under his clothes, so they didn’t dwell in the dressing room, proceeding to the pool without further ado.

“Excited?” Makoto asked, as they were nearing the edge of the water.

And then, unexpectedly, like a ray of sun in a cloudy day, Iru smiled. In the next second he was jumping head first into the water.

“That was fast,” Sousuke teased, stepping in beside him.

“I suppose freedom can’t be taken away, just withheld, once you’ve experience it …”

“How philosophical. I thought you were doing research on physical conditioning for competitive swimming.”

“Yeah, there’s that too…”

Sousuke frowned and pointed at the middle of the pool.

“Isn’t he supposed to swim?”

After a flawless jump and a long underwater glide, Iru had surfaced on his back and stayed that way, floating.

“Give him a while… and even then, you can’t expect him to swim by the book. He’s been doing it to survive, not for medals.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Eventually, a while turned into a rather long while and Iru still did not swim. He floated and glided and idly dolphin kicked his way around the pool, but his movements resembled more a mermaid’s frolicking than a swimmer’s training. Makoto sighed. He approached the poolside and crouched, extending a hand.

“Iru-san?”

The man let himself be pulled out and removed the cap and goggles, shaking his head. Makoto was planning to just call it a day, when Sousuke approached, hand resolutely on the stop watch.

“You can actually swim can’t you?”

Iru just eyed him, curious.

“Then get on that starting block there. Freestyle, 100 meters. I’m timing it.”

“Sousuke, I told you, I don’t think-“

But as Makoto protested, Iru stepped onto the block and took a nearly perfect track-start stance, followed by a picture-perfect dive. This time, instead of gliding aimlessly underwater, Iru emerged from a series of dolphin kicks and started swimming in earnest.

“Not to question your methods, but…”

Makoto knew Sousuke was flashing him a shit eating grin even without taking his eyes off Iru. Approaching the wall on the other side, he seemed to fumble a bit with the flip turn and lost speed, but once his feet hit the wall he sprang into action yet again. It was not competitive swimming, by any means, but it had an allure to it, a beautiful imperfection.

Repeating his earlier gesture, Makoto approached the water and held a hand out when the swimmer reached the wall.

“Who the hell is that?” a young voice slashed through their silence.

“Someone with a decent 100m freestyle,” he heard Sousuke reply. “Get in the pool, Matsuoka.”

The boy was just slightly taller than Iru and shorter than both him and Sousuke. Quite impressively built for the age, but not bulky. Legs made of graceful curves that led to thin ankles. Most of all, though, his distinguishing trait was the fiery intensity of his gaze. He had shoulder length auburn hair that he kept in a bad boy tousled cut and was about to cover with his swimming cap. Once he was all set he pulled the strap of his goggles and snapped it against his skull. It struck Makoto as boyish and unnecessary. He would eventually grow out of it, everyone does.

“Thank you, Sousuke. We’ll be going now.”

“Later, Makoto.” 

On the train back, Iru seemed somewhat more relaxed. He had leant back on the seat and would let his gaze wander from the landscape to the other passengers, to his own hands, resting on his lap.

“Did you like it?”

He considered, then said, “pool water really smells bad, and I don’t like to wear goggles.”

Makoto suppressed a small laugh. It was clear enough that it had been a good day.

 

* * *

 

Their second session at Samezuka, one day later, seemed bound to mirror the previous one with clockwork precision: the quick poolside strip, elegant jump, and seemingly endless floating and frolicking. This time, though, Sousuke made an earlier intervention and got Iru to begin swimming laps. He did so lazily, barely adhering to the prescribed form. Those things must have seemed quite pointless to him, after all.

Makoto took a seat on a plastic chair and opened his notebook. Sousuke started to walk around, stopwatch in hand, even though Makoto doubted that he was doing any timing at all. Iru swam, a relaxing presence, a lulling repetition, almost like some kind of ASMR.

And then, all of a sudden, the sleepy cadence was disturbed by the arrival of a red-haired typhoon.

“You’re early.”

By the time he stopped by Sousuke, he had pulled his t-shirt over his head while walking. Strangely reminiscent of a certain someone. Makoto pretended not to watch them.

“I want to race him.”

“Go ask him.”

It was the first time Makoto saw Rin in the water. He had a strong paddle and caught up with Iru after a turn. And that was when Makoto’s heart secretly sank. The moment he sensed Rin teasing beside him, Iru gladly took the bait and picked up pace. Their mutual speed began to steadily increase. Iru’s flip turns became neater and Rin’s strokes became longer, almost languid, embracing the water.

“The boys seem to get along.”

Sousuke had pulled a chair to sit beside him.

“Rin and I raced the other day.”

Makoto looked pointedly at the 45-year-old beside him, expressive creases at the corner of teal eyes, salt and pepper hair, injured shoulder, and wondered if this was what a mid-life crisis looked like.

“I’m pretty sure the only race that matters is happening right now.”

Sousuke took the jab and grinned.

“Yeah, I guess so. He definitely needs a push in the right direction, that kid.”

That made Makoto frown. “I’m not sure it’s fair to expect that of Iru.”

“Well, we’ll have to wait and see.”

As if on cue, Rin slapped the wall, Iru right after, and both came to a stop. They had completed some ten laps at galloping speed, but as they emerged, it became clear that they could have gone longer, their stop as arbitrary as the result of the race.

“Coach, can you time us?”

“From the block.” Sousuke barked, and both swimmers pulled themselves up from the water. For a second, Makoto thought Iru might just throw himself into the pool again without caring for Rin and Sousuke’s instructions. But he didn’t. Almost obediently, he stepped on the block and took a track start stance once again. Rin did the same.

“Take your marks!”

They tensed, shifted their weight back. Then, Sousuke blew the whistle and they both shot forward, two streamlined figures flying above the water. They were doing 50 meters free, so there would only be one turn. Rin took the lead on the first length and, with a better turn, set off well ahead for the second half. But the disadvantage seemed to ignite something in Iru. In a few meters, they were back in line with each other. Sousuke’s grin widened. Makoto’s breath got suspended somewhere above the energizing blue and the two figures rocketing to the wall. They emerged for air, this time both panting, jaws slacked.

Rin looked at Sousuke, expectant.

“It’s a draw,” he announced. “Matsuoka, that was a personal best.”

Rin celebrated by slapping the water with his open palms. His hair was red like dripping blood under the afternoon sun that filtered through the high glass panels.

“Dude, that was seriously wicked!”

Iru let himself be pulled out of the pool by Rin. A small curl of his lips gave him away. For the past month, Makoto had grown used to this man’s subtle cues, his apparent determination to pass through life without making ripples. And there he was, hand still hanging from Rin’s, confused but oh so happy. _Infatuated_ , he thought, grudgingly.

“When did you transfer in? I’ve never seen you around. I’m Rin, I’m also a transfer student. Maybe we-“

And Rin’s stream of excited chatter halted. Iru stood motionless, a little bemused, tousled hair and vivid blue eyes. He opened his mouth and uttered a few words. Makoto felt the vibration of the sound but could not tell what he said. Rin stared right into those eyes, taking in all details.

“Who the hell is this?” he turned to Sousuke. His voice was almost strident. “He’s not a student, just a random old man! What's he doing here?”

“Rin…” Sousuke called, but the boy was already trotting away, anger masking the disappointment and the tears in his eyes. Yes, they were there, clear as the water where they swam.

“Iru, are you ok?” Makoto finally asked, the steps between them taking the proportion of the world to a toddler’s legs. Makoto searched for the blue eyes, but where a minute ago there was excitement and wonder, now there was an unbearable blankness. He shrugged and jumped back into the pool.

“Makoto, ’m going after Rin… I’m sorry.” And just like that, Sousuke rushed out.

He waited for Iru to leave the pool on his own accord. It didn’t take more than 15 minutes, so they managed to catch an early train back to Iwatobi. They watched the same landscape in silence, fields covered in golden light, glimpses of the sea. The mood was so different from one day ago. _If only Rin had not showed up.._.

Makoto couldn’t really remember his teens. They had been as uneventful as intense in discovery and transformation. He could recall the angst, but he couldn’t make sense of it, not anymore. He thought of Sousuke and the conversation he was probably having with the boy at that same time. He would like to understand Iru better. This was not about his research grant anymore. It felt important in some fundamental way - a life project that had fallen upon his hands.

There was a rustle of fabric beside him and when he turned his face, Iru was close enough for him to feel the faint moisture of breath against his skin.

“I think I told him something that I shouldn't have.”

“What was it? Tell me, I’m sure we can fix it.”

Iru looked into his eyes. Regret and doubt in that gaze. Two words escaped his lips like a whisper-

“My name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back! I hope to start posting more regularly from now on - perhaps monthly (sorry, really busy IRL).  
> Feedback in any form would make me very happy!  
> Cheers and see you "next water time" ;)


	4. Forbidden Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin seeks answers in dark places. Sousuke comes to the rescue - once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content.  
> Literary and artistic references in the end note.  
> Enjoy!

A 2D gargoyle stared him down from above. Judgement in the ugly grimace. The woman was giving it her all. He had picked her in part because most of them had refused to entertain a kid his age, and in part because, out of the handful that didn't, she was the only one who didn’t dye or perm her hair. She was probably in her mid thirties and, according to herself, married and doing this as a part time job, behind her husband’s back.

The head until then bobbing up and down came to a stop. Eyes stilted on thick mascara looked up.

“Are you ok, Rin-kun?”

He looked away and tapped her neck, nudging her down once more. The slurping resumed around his limp cock. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn’t see the ugly gargoyle, or all the ugly decor of the dungeon themed room, if for a moment he could forget about the ugliness of the whole scene... But there was nothing on his mind to overwrite it with, no fantasy to grasp at. The licking and pulling became unbearable. He bucked upward, pushed her away.

“E-to...” she considered, finger on her red lower lip, “Perhaps you’d like to fondle my breasts...”

He winced, inwardly slapping himself.

“Touch my bum?” she offered, cracks in the act of seduction beginning to appear. “Smell me?”

He shook his head, eyes scrunched up.

She sighed, then scooted up.

“I can’t refund you, I’m sorry,” she said with a little bow.

He shook his head again, now with dejection, not disgust. This had really been a bad idea, he thought.

“Rin-kun, I still have a few minutes... if you’d like to talk.”

So, now what? He’d allow himself to be coddled by a sex worker? For a moment he dwelled on the sheer sense of oddity that took over him.

“Perhaps you should try it with a younger woman... someone your age, maybe... Have you found a girlfriend yet?”

He eyed her, incredulous. She pushed his head to her lap and he curled in a fetal pose, track pants roughly pulled back up to his hips. Maybe it was the warmth, or the illusion of safety, but he found himself confessing what had been on his mind for months - the demons that had sent his swimming haywire.

“I’ve known for a bit, but, I don’t know, maybe I just wanted a final test... some evidence that it's not just a thing I got in my mind, that... I really don't like girls.”

She brought her hand to his hair and massaged his scalp with the tips of her fingers. He wandered what it felt like, for someone in this line of work, to come across a confused boy like him. Would anyone else just kick him out the door with his pants still dangling around his knees?

“I’m happy. You see, I’m not a very confident person, so I was worried my performance was not acceptable to you.”

“Oh, no...”

“It’s ok. I understand now. You made a good decision to come here. Now you won’t regret anything.”

He looked up. Her expression was guarded. She had been so polite and proper all along, almost formal. Not at all how he’d imagined it.

“Is there anyone you like?”

“Well... huh...” that was quite the trick question. He knew he would not answer truthfully, not even to himself. “I have a kouhai who probably has a crush on me. I could hit that just to have the feel of it, but I think I’d feel bad afterwards. I’m attracted to my swimming coach. Everyone says he’s gay, but I guess that would be inappropriate even if he were up to it, which is not a given.”

“No one else?”

Was there? The truth was, he couldn’t really tell.

_My name is Nanase Haruka. I only swim free._

The look of bewilderment in eerie blue eyes when he pulled the strange man out of the pool. The irrational hurt the scene still made him feel - betrayed and disappointed and generally at a loss.

“No, there’s no one else,” he lied.

“Well, why don't you take up a hobby, or go out more? Meet new people. You are very cute Rin-kun. I’m sure if you meet other boys like you, you’ll find someone in no time.”

“Thank you, Rie-san.”

“Come, I’ll walk you to the exit.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was just his luck that within the space of a few weeks, Sousuke would find himself walking the corridors of Samezuka Academy once again, looking for an erratic red-head.

Makoto and Nanase - the supposed real name revealed to Rin alone, right before his eyes - had made it back home alright. Some local film makers were on the way to help with the research, now that they finally had a name.

This time, Rin was nowhere to be found. He decided to stop his searches around 7pm and bought some food in the cafeteria. Afterwards, he went back to the pool to wait, just in case, but had to leave when the janitor pronounced the facility closed for the day. He’d tried to call Rin countless times. He sat in his car and typed a message.

_Hi Rin. I’ve been trying to call you. I’m still at Samezuka. I’ll wait for you._

It sounded stalkerish and desperate, but he sent it anyway. He needed to know Rin was ok.

Another hour went by until his phone finally rung.

“Rin?”

“Coach? Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes I am. Rin, where are you?”

A huff oh breath on the other side, street noise, chatter.

“I’m in Tottori.”

“Where in Tottori? I’m going to pick you up.”

Silence. A few seconds.

“Ok. I’ll drop you a pin.”

Rin hung up and with the next message he got to find out what that meant: a google maps link with an exact location pinpointed. He pinched to enlarge it.

“Shit.”

What was Rin doing in the red light district? He started the car and drove off right away.

 

* * *

 

When her next client cancelled his appointment, Rie just sat with Rin on the low wall outside the hotel. There was a convenience store on the other side of the road and an outdoor parking lot with some vending machines along the lane. She bought a pack of cigarettes and they smoked two each. Rie did most of the talking. She would go from cheerful, to flirty, to wistful in the blink of an eye. She was candid with her life. Her husband had lost interest in her body when she turned thirty. Her mother told her that’s because she should have gotten pregnant by then and that after that age a woman becomes useless and unattractive. Rin looked over her again.

“You’re not unattractive.”

She giggled and bumped his shoulder.

“You have a funny way to put it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” She looked away and seemed to focus on something at a distance. “Say, is that coach of yours a hunk with blue-green eyes and grey hair?”

“Huh?”

And that’s when Rin saw the black Mazda - a recent model that looked like a trimmed down SUV. It somehow matched Yamazaki‘s personality. The man had his head poking out of the window and was asking the florist for directions. Rin stood and stepped to the center of narrow lane. Yamazaki saw him. He could distinguish the man’s piercing gaze through distance and glass. The car rolled near.

“Yo,” he greeted.

“Rin...” His name came out more like a sigh of relief. “I was worried sick. I... Come in. Let’s get you back to school.”

“Hey, handsome!” Rin heard behind him. Rie was standing with a hand on her hip, a cheeky smile on her face. “Take care of this kitten for me, will you?”

He braced for the explosion but it never happened. Yamazaki nodded. When Rin was seated inside the vehicle, he closed the windows, let the doors auto lock, and dashed away.

 

* * *

 

“So, how was it?” 

“Shitty. Couldn’t get it up. Rie-san was nice though. Put up with me out of pity.”

Sousuke gave him a side glance. 

“I see. What was it then? Didn't like her performance? Like them younger?"

The boy looked away, brooding.

"She asked the same."

He let his forehead smash against the glass, like a little kid. "That's not it. I don't know how to put it..."

So that's what it was. Somewhere along the road there was a small diner with a car park. Another curve or two and they'd be there. As soon as he saw the illuminated flags,  Sousuke pulled over to the parking lot, took one slot and killed the engine. Rin eyed him quizzically.

“Rin, come out to me.”

There was no other explanation. Sousuke liked to think that a few decades of life experience allowed him to conclude as much.

Rin didn’t deny it. His back aligned with the seat, his head slumped back against the headrest, eyes on the dark grey cover. Then, his lips parted with a hint of roguishness, a glinting prominent canine.

“Ne, coach... since we're out in the open now..." (they weren't really) "... we could go somewhere, just you and me. I can definitely get it up for you.”

_And this is how you become a criminal,_ Sousuke remarked, on the margin of his future biography.

Rin was a beautiful boy. He was also confused and frustrated. How would his lips feel? They looked dry and chapped. There was a faint cigarette smell emanating from his clothes, so he’d probably smoked at some point that evening. He’d have to chastise him on that - in another context, another time.

“I have a better idea.”

One day, Sousuke might let his madness engulf him, but for Rin’s sake, it wouldn’t be that night.

 

* * *

 

 

Yamazaki told him he’d rented an apartment in town but hadn’t stayed there in a while, since his partner had also relocated to Iwatobi from Tokyo. Rin assumed the partner was the brown haired guy from earlier. Perhaps a fellow coach, which left him wondering who the blue eyed one might be. A professional swimmer? Maybe recovering from an injury? He’d never seen that face in swimming magazines or blogs, so it couldn’t be someone prominent.

The second floor walk up was just a studio, but looked spacious and neat, with tatami flooring, wardrobes on one wall and book shelves on the other. There was a low table with a lamp perched on it and a legless reclining chair by the balcony door. It must be Yamazaki’s office, because he dropped his laptop case there, on his way to draw the curtains. There was another table, folded in the corner, probably for meals. Besides books, there were some records stacked up and a portable record player with some fancy speakers on one of the shelves. Above it, there were a handful of photo frames: Yamazaki and what seemed like his family, Yamazaki and the brown haired guy - young and shirtless, on the beach - Yamazaki wearing a gold medal and holding a trophy - he was really young there, maybe Rin's age now. The other two were weddings. On one of them there was a bride and groom, two grooms on the one next to it. Yamazaki wass in both, but the brown haired guy only appeared in the gay wedding picture, arm looped around Yamazaki's, smiling.

“Can I get you something? ... Beer, sake?”

“You do know I’m still a minor.”

Yamazaki turned his eyes to him without moving his face. The deep cowboy voice teased - or chastised, he couldn't really tell -

“Apparently not for smoking or visiting brothels.”

Rin sighed. “Sake.”

When he was little, his father had promised to drink sake with him once he turned 16. "Save your first drink for your old man, Rin," he'd said. Optimistic Toraichi Matsuoka thought that bad drinking habits could be avoided by parsimonious introduction in a safe environment. Maybe Yamazaki thought the same. Or maybe he did want Rin in his bed after all.

Yamazaki walked out of his shoebox kitchen with a small sake bottle and two thumb sized clay cups. He placed them on the low table and went back for a bowl of edamame. He poured the drinks in silence, and in silence they raised their cups and toasted. Yamazaki gave him a half smile when their eyes met. In that moment he couldn’t see the coach, but only someone familiar, maybe an older version of himself. It was eerily comforting.The rice wine itself was smooth, with a tinge of sourness.

“Like it?”

“It’s alright.”

“Rin...”

“Coach.”

“Call me Sousuke. Here, but not in school.”

“Sousuke,” he tested. The man chuckled. Maybe this was when it finally happened. An older man to walk him through the motions, to show him how it’s like. A path of no return. Would Sousuke be rough on him? Would he let him stay the night? Probably not. He’d be back in his dorm room afterwards, with a sore bum and a broken ego, but at least he’d not be a fucking virgin anymore.

_Thump_.

A heavy pile of books landed on the desk in front of him, making the empty sake cups rattle. The books were of a large size, with thick glossy covers, like art books of some sort. Yamazaki - Sousuke, when they were not in school - walked back to the shelf and picked two more books, this time just small paperbacks.

“What are these?”

A smug grin adorned the older man’s attractive facial lines. “Why don’t you take a look?”

The smaller books made up a novel published in two volumes. The pages were yellowed and had a distinct old book odour imprinted into them. The covers were made of blue and red bars that framed graphic depictions of human bodies in rough outlines, tangled in a way that one could not tell where one ended and the other began. He put those aside, then opened one of the larger albums. The cover was a man’s face with a flower in his mouth, eyes deep and piercing. A Japanese man of a certain age. The photos inside the book were all of the same man. Short and hairy, but tout and muscular. In the centre of a zodiac circle, holding roses, contorted and naked, tied up with a hose, posing in a fundoshi. _Ok…?_ The next was even more explicit. It was called “Uncovered: Rare Vintage Male Nudes” and there was no false advertisement there.

He was starting to have a feeling that Sousuke was trying to make him aroused, but the man himself seemed uninterested in beginning any kind of contact. He was currently opening and closing drawers in the bathroom, and when he finally returned, he was carrying a packet of wet tissues, a bottle of “scentless water based lubricant” and a box of latex gloves. Rin could not move. The message was clear enough. He just gaped - at Sousuke, at the items placed on the desk next to the books. Sousuke’s back straightened, he made a gesture with his index, like when you remember something, then quickly walked to the door and took a bunch of keys from a hook, which he brought to the table as well.

“Alright. I leave you to it then.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m off now. The house is all yours. Until morning, I mean. I’ll come here about 8am tomorrow. You don’t have to stay, of course. Just lock the door and pass me the keys afterwards."

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” He asked stupidly.

“Told you I wouldn’t. Is that a deal breaker?”

“W-what?”

“For us, as a team? Me making you an olympian… and all?”

“Oh.”

“Look, as you can imagine I’ve been there, done that.” Sousuke dropped to a squat, just beside Rin’s shoulder. “When people think of us they imagine cocks in butts, lewd men, effeminate men with make up, I don’t know what else. It’s all that, to some people, but it doesn’t have to be, if that’s not your thing. This is… something you need to feel good about, because it’s not gonna go away, no matter what they tell you.” Yamazaki took a deep breath, as though dispelling some dark thought. “So all I’m saying is relax, play some music - you kids still know how to operate a record player, right? - look at some nice pictures, get aroused, experiment…” He then paused and his expression turned playful. “Just don’t put anything _in there_ other than your fingers, ok? Trust me, you don’t want to turn up in the ER with a zucchini up your ass.”

Rin was dumbfounded. With another intake of breath Sousuke stood up, lightly squeezing Rin’s shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

“To Makoto’s - my partner - I should check on him and that nut case he picked up.”

“A-about that…” he hesitated.

“I don’t know much either. We talk about that tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Take care, Rin.”

 

* * *

 

_“Then a ripple appeared out in the middle of the ocean. A delicate, white splashing like an advancing wave developed. The ripple advanced rapidly in the direction of this part of the shore. As it reached the shallows and seemed about to break, suddenly in the middle of the wave a swimmer stood out. Quickly his body seemed to erase the way. Then he stood up. His sturdy legs kicked the ocean shallows as he walked forward.”_

Rin had gone through the photo books and, sure enough, his body had started to react to the erotic images of frolicking men in a variety of settings. But then he had picked up the novel. The beginning was all about some old writer and his young female lover, which he didn’t quite appreciate, but a few pages in, Yuichi - the beautiful young swimmer - came out of the water and took centre stage. Rin’s interest was picked - at first by the description of the handsome youth, and then by the plot that brought him to series of misadventures.

In fact, the whole thing was twisted and rather bleak but he couldn’t stop reading. He turned the yellowish pages, devoured chapter after chapter, quickly making it to the second volume. There were scenes in a gay bar, other in a public park where men met men for passing pleasures, there was a faked family, and a gruesome child birth scene. He had never read anything like this. His whole being collided with the story and was spluttered on the pages along the brown humidity marks. There wasn’t a single explicit scene in the book, all cut short by closed doors and fade outs and chapter breaks, but he felt himself heat up. The stash of pages cradled in his left hand began to thin.

The last time he checked, it was past 3am. He placed the book dog-eared on the floor and slid a hand under the hem of his track pants. He felt himself, smooth and shaved, a thin coating of sweat in the crease of his thighs. His muscles reacted. He closed his eyes. He had moved to Sousuke’s cushioned floor chair at some point. He could feel the tension points where his body pressed more heavily against the structure, but he could at least relax his neck and shoulders on the head rest. He summoned to his mind the scenes in the book that had caused more of an impression him - an orgy in a countryside mansion, a hook up in the park, an encounter with an older man. His hand moved up and down, picking up pace. With the other, he pawed one of the photo books and opened it. It was a beautiful beach scene with two western boys standing face to face, their freckled white bodies nude and pressed together, mouths entwined, coarse hair in disarray. Like a gay perfume advert. He reached for the lube and slicked his hand. He rubbed harder, squeezed more. His mind’s eye offered him a vision of blue eyes and lean dark chest, a silhouette moving in the water. The swimmer emerging from the waves in the book overlapped with another swimmer, pulling himself out of the pool, shaking the water off his hair. With a couple more pulls Rin spilled all over his hand. His panting had grown erratic. He opened his eyes to pull a few wet tissues out of the packet and wipe himself. He contemplated waddling to the bathroom to rinse his lower body, but the towels had done an acceptable job and he was feeling tired. He let his body roll onto the tatami. The book lay there next to him, but his eyes wouldn’t fully open. He’d have to postpone knowing the end of the story. The floor smelled of aged grass and Sousuke. In that strange comfort, he drifted off.

 

* * *

 

When he returned to his rented studio, the last thing he’d expected to see was Rin’s sleeping figure curled up on the floor. Silly boy didn’t even look for a blanket to cover himself. The skin of his waist, where his sweatshirt hiked up was full of goosebumps, even in his sleep. Pulling a folded comforter from the wardrobe, Sousuke kneeled by the still body and covered it up to the shoulder. Rin made a contented hum in return.

It was well past 11 when he heard some stirring. He had sneaked his laptop over to the kitchen table, a diminutive flimsy thing he’d bought online, to fit the narrow space. He had made himself some drip coffee and was watching a recording of the latest butterfly qualifiers for the national team. The competition was fierce. They boy would have to step up his game. From the crumpled tissues in the waste paper basket and the solid few hours of sleep he’d just witnessed, he was hopeful that some things had been resolved that night.

“You’re here.”

Rin looked adorable with a bed head. His eyes were still sleepy and his voice thick.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

“That book… why? I mean, I get the appeal, but it’s freaking twisted. Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of getting me to accept my sexuality and stuff...?”

He figured Rin must be talking about the novel he found open on the floor. He’d since picked it up and put a marker on it. It was an original 1953 edition, after all. Breaking the spine wouldn’t do.

“No particular reason. Mishima-san’s one of my favourite writers, that’s all. It’s also him on the photo album. The one with the roses.”

Rin’s brow twitched comically.

“ _That_ guy wrote books?”

Sousuke heard himself laugh. “Yeah, he did. Many and good. He committed sepukku at the Self-Defence Headquartes in Tokyo, after he handed in his last work to the publisher. A bit of a nut job… But you can learn about the political stuff yourself some day. Just don’t buy too much into it. It was mostly delusional crap.”

“O-ok…”

“Coffee?”

“W-water please.”

Sousuke stood and turned around, easily finding a glass and pouring water from a filter jug. Rin received the drink and circled the table. His eyes widened when he saw the paused video.

“Want to get to know the competition?”

The boy took a deep inhale. It was probably hard for him to see some familiar faces pressing ahead, but it was a necessary exercise.

“Only if you let me sit on your lap.”

The words came out light hearted, with a playful smirk. Sousuke raised his brow at that.

“… My handsome gay coach.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, kid?”

“Who knows… I’m inspired.”

Sousuke whacked the back of his head, mussing his hair, and pulled a folded chair from behind the door. They sat side by side, thighs brushing every now and then. Rin was there, within his reach, and he had a feeling that he could beckon him to lean forward and suck him off at any time. But he wouldn’t, because he knew - he saw it clearly now, like the water in a mountain stream - that’s not how their story would go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm officially going to stop making predictions on when chapters will come out. I know that's a bit frustrating from a reader's perspective, but think on the bright side - sometimes it's much earlier than expected.  
> I am uncertain at this point, though, if anyone is reading this at all. I feel a bit disheartened by the lack of comments. It doesn't need to be an essay. I'd be happy just to know that there's someone out there...
> 
> References: 
> 
> The novel Rin reads is Yukio Mishima's Forbidden Colours (from which I also borrowed the title). The quote was extracted from the Penguin translation.
> 
> The photographs depicting Mishima are from Eikoh Osoe's "Ba-ra-kei: Ordeal by Roses"
> 
> "Uncovered: Rare Vintage Male Nudes" is a photo book by Reed Massengill.
> 
> Cheers guys, hope you enjoy!


	5. The sea within

“Mako-chan! We got it!”

The sight of a caffeinated Hazuki Nagisa outside his front door early in the morning gave Makoto equal measures of excitement and exasperation. A second later, the petite blonde was rejoined by Rei, visibly sleep-deprived but wearing his usual composed demeanor.

“Thanks to our good relations with the city council we were able to examine records from the estimated time of disappearance. After thorough search we found a missing person announcement for Nanase Haruka-san.”

Makoto looked at his wrist watch. Not even 9:30. Just when had Rei managed to go through a year’s worth of newspapers?

“Then we came here and asked around and talked to an obasan who used to know a Nanase family, but, according to her, they seem to have moved away a long time ago. Their old house is still standing though, and it’s just there-”

Nagisa pointed to the stairway that led to the temple.

“A house… nearby?”

The image of the old Japanese house where he’d found Haruka a few nights before came to mind. Had the man known where he was… _who_ he was all along?

He offered tea to the incoming guests and went to Ren’s room. He found Haruka awake, staring at the ceiling.

“Ohayo Iru… I mean…”

“I already said Iru was fine.”

He sounded mildly annoyed and remained flat on the bed despite the chatter coming from the kitchen.

Makoto frowned. “But you know your name now…”

The man didn’t answer and rolled his neck towards the wall, facing away.

“How about Haru, then? It sounds almost the same.”

“Whatever” he muttered.

“Nagisa and Rei are here. They found your house. Would you like to go take a look?”

“I know where my house is.”

So he’d guessed it right, but he was curious as to why the man had refused to identify himself. Whatever the reason was, it pained Makoto to see Haruka so dejected.

“Would you like to go for a swim, then?”

“No.”

With that, Haruka stood up and walked out of the room. Makoto took a few steps in pursuit, only to see him disappear into the bathroom and shut the door.

He eventually saw Rei and Nagisa out and decided to put the whole thing, as well as his research, on hold, in favor of letting things simmer for a while.

On the third day of this wordless compromise, without prelude, tears or fanfare, Haruka made his way up the stairway, towards the old house, Makoto following in silence. When they got to the locked front gate, Haruka simply skirted half way around the house and pushed the side door open. It led to the bath and laundry area and, further in, to a wooden corridor that promptly creaked upon their entrance. Makoto kept a small distance from Haruka and stopped before entering the main living area. Haruka went in, opening one and then another set of sliding doors. In the dim light he could see the man kneeling and taking a deep bow. Probably a family shrine. He then straightened his back and faced Makoto.

“Come in.”

He made his way in, stopping where Haruka was still sitting on his haunches. In front of him was indeed a shrine with an old dusty photo of a woman.

“My grandmother," he supplied, "After she died, I lived here for some time.”

“Alone?”

Haruka shrugged, then stood up and walked up the stairs. Makoto followed him this time, interpreting the invite as extending to the whole house.

Haruka’s bedroom was composed of a single bed, a desk and a small bookshelf. A yellowed poster of two dolphins still hung from the wall. There were notebooks and a phone list on the flimsy teenager desk. A boy’s world lost in time. The atmosphere was heavy, the old wood letting out a heady smell. Haruka stood still by the window, blue eyes peering into his hazy past.

“It’s not finished,” he said, running his fingers over the cover of a notebook, then flipping pages, as if to confirm. “I never finished my homework. I had to write an English essay, but I didn’t know what to write.”

Makoto took a step forward and looked over the shorter man’s shoulder. Haruka’s index held the notebook open. On it there was only a date - _12 June 2004_. The day Haruka disappeared.

* * *

 

They agreed to keep things unchanged after the visit, but, eventually, Haruka began to spend more time in his old house. Makoto made sure to keep an eye on him, just to be safe, but the man remained stable, so there seemed to be no reason for concern.

He would wake up early and cook breakfast for Makoto, mom and Sousuke – different kinds of fish and side dishes for everyone, and his beloved mackerel for himself. Then, he would head to his place and start working. He began with a general clean up, then washed all the laundry in the house, fixed door knobs, handles, picture frames and any other broken fixtures. Later, he started an herb garden in the backyard. Makoto though the old house had made him regain some sense of self. It made him happy.

“That’s really nice, Haru. Did you learn it in school?”

They were sitting on the porch at the back and Haru was working on a wood carving he’d started some days ago, using scraps of old furniture that could not be repaired.

“Hmm.”

“Is it a wave?”

He nodded and kept picking at the wood.

“Would you like to swim today?”

“No.”

The man’s repeated refusal to swim was an obvious setback for Makoto’s research. In the last month they’d only been once to the local swimming club. Samezuka was off the plans ever since the altercation with Sousuke’s fiery pupil.

“We could go to ITSC. Sasabe coach would be happy.”

Haruka shrugged. Makoto sighed. According to Sousuke, for the past month or so, Rin had been on a roll. His times had improved, he was more sociable, his grades had gotten better. There was talk of making him the captain of the team, now that Mikoshiba Seijurou, the team’s ace, was about to graduate.

“Makoto,” Haruka called, after a moment of silence, “I think I want to get a job.”

That caught him off guard. It was not a bad thing, but it seemed too soon. Haruka might not be ready for the outside world just yet.

“What would you like to do?”

“I don’t know. I can work in the kombini or something.”

“Sure, we can look around and see if they’re hiring.”

“I never finished high-school, so there’s not much I can do.”

“I know… It’s just-”

“You’re a professor, so you must have studied a lot. I just wasted a lot of time.”

“Haru, that’s not what I meant…”

He ventured into Haruka’s personal space. Small touches were normal between them now, even though it was always Makoto who’d initiate them. He touched a shoulder, lightly.

“Would you consider finishing high school? I mean, you don’t have to, but it would give you more options…”

“I can’t depend on you forever.”

“Don’t worry about that. Consider it part of the reward for letting me research about your swimming...”

As soon as the words left his lips, Makoto realized he’d made a huge mistake. Haruka scooted away from his touch and focused on the carving once again. He’d tied his kindness to Haruka’s swimming and made it sound wrong… cheap, like a paid service, or, worse, some sort of prostitution.

“Haru, I’m so sorry!” He had to fix this, somehow. He pulled Haruka’s hands into his and pleaded. “Please, I didn’t mean that… You don’t need to swim if you don’t want to.”

But Haruka only pulled his hands away and made his face into an absolute blank.

“It’s fine, we can swim today.”

“No! Please, don’t force yourself. I shouldn’t have said that…”

“I want to.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” He stood up, sawdust flying off his apron like a sandstorm. “Come on, Makoto.”

* * *

 

“A part time?”

Sasabe Goro, Makoto’s childhood swimming coach and very first boss, had changed little since he’d met him. He still sported his funny goatee, but all his hair had now turned white. Makoto  stopped by the high chair the man used to watch over the pool, as soon as Haruka got into the water. Asking Sasabe for a job for Haruka had crossed his mind during their silent walk to the swimming club.

“I’m trying to convince him to finish high school, but he wants to work to support himself, so I thought a part time would be the best.”

“He really has a nice form, doesn’t he?”

“Do you still not remember him at all?”

One of the first places they had been after the reveal of Haruka’s identity was the trophy room at ITSC. Even with all records lost, they had managed to find an undated photo of a young Haruka - alone with a bunch of flowers, a gold medal and a trophy.

“We had a few good years, we won medals and people started noticing the club… but no, I can’t pull any memory of him.”

“What a shame,” Makoto said softly.

Haru had launched into one more lap. He was swimming leisurely, which brought out the elegance of his stroke. Makoto entertained the idea of bringing Haru to the sea, come summer. He’d held it off because it was too soon, and now the water was too cold. Winter would soon be in full swing.

“Do you think he can sign the kids in and out and keep an eye on the door?”

“Huh? You mean front desk?”

“Yup. Can’t seem to find anyone for the evening shift lately. I’ll be inside watching the pool and he can watch the door.”

“That sounds good. Thank you, Sasabe-coach. I will talk to him.”

Makoto lit up. This was so much better than a job at a kombini. Haru could be close to his element - the water - and still have time to study for high school. In the pool, the man’s continuous flow of laps came to an end. It was time to break the news.

* * *

 

  _“Good job, Haru-chan! Your form is nearly perfect. Now I want you to start thinking about pushing the water to propel yourself forward.”_

_The blue-eyed boy looked puzzled, yellow latex cap still wrapping his head and making him look younger than his years._

_“Hmm. Let’s see…” Makoto crouched by the pool, large feet bouncing back and forth on his rubber slippers. “Imagine you have a bucket between your legs and you want to put all the water in the pool into that bucket…”_

_“If I do that, the pool will be dry.”_

_“Right… Then let’s say you just want to put some of the water into the bucket. Is that ok?”_

_“Ok.”_

_“So, how would you move your arms if you wanted to do that?”_

_Haruka flailed his arms stupidly, trying to figure out how one would scoop water into an imaginary bucket. He really didn’t understand what his swimming instructor was getting at._

_“Look, Haruka, like this”_

_And Makoto stood up, ducking his head between his arms to mimic a swimming stance, before he started moving his long arms in alternate circles, as though swimming crawl. At the end of the stroke, Makoto’s hand would swivel inward and seemingly push something between his legs, before letting go and going around his hip to shoot forward again._

_A few seconds into the demo, Haruka kicked the wall and swam down the lane again. This time, his technique was flawless._

* * *

 

 

Haruka remembered these things with vivid clarity, even years after they happened. When he was brought back from the island, he thought he would just pretend to have forgotten his past life. It would be more convenient. No one would remember him anyway.

It was some time after his grandmother’s passing that Haruka had become invisible. The people he’d interacted with, the people who knew him seemed to have gradually forgotten him until no one would take notice of him at all.

At first, Mrs. Tachibana had brought him food. His mother would still call to check in, even though she’d left shortly after the funeral. With time, though, the meals ceased to come, and the phone remained silent. In school, the same scenario. The teachers would go through the roster in the beginning of the classes and pause before saying his name, puzzlement in their faces, perhaps wondering if there was a new transfer student that no one had told them about.

Then came the bubbles. One morning, in late spring, while trying to write an essay for his English class, he looked out the window and something dashed in front of his eyes. He scrunched his eyes and rubbed them, and then looked out the window again. For a while, there was nothing out of the ordinary, so he went back to absently looking at the blank page. “Future”. What could he write about such topic? He turned to the window again and there they were. He could see them more clearly now. Bubbles. Rising from bottom to top like oxygen in a fish tank.

On the next day, he went to see the school nurse about it. She asked him a few questions about what he could see and told him to look at a white wall and tell her if there were any. He said that yes, there were. In fact, they had multiplied overnight. She tapped at the computer, trying to check something and then said,

“Nanase-kun, you must see an eye doctor. See, inside your eyes there is a kind of jelly. When it melts, it turns into bubbles that you can see. You should get it checked, so please tell your parents to make you an appointment.”

Haruka went home, intent on finding an eye doctor on his own, since his parents were away and hadn’t contacted him in a while. He sat at his desk, homework forgotten, and flipped through the phone list, looking for the doctors’ pages. He doesn’t clearly remember what happened next. He only knows that on that very night, he was taken away by the sea.

* * *

 

Makoto held his hand out to Haruka on the poolside.

“Good job, Haru!

Haruka let himself be hoisted and took the towel offered by the professor, which he used to dab his face and chest. They walked to the small work station set up for their sessions – a desk and chair with some equipment brought in by Makoto. Haruka already knew the drill, so he just stepped on the scale and held out his arm to have his blood pressure and pulse taken. Makoto made some additional notes on his laptop and pulled the lid down.

“Haru, I talked to Sasabe coach for you and he’s willing to offer you a job here, if you want. What say you?”

Haruka pondered. He didn’t handle people well. He was willing to man a counter at the kombini, but nothing that required more people skills than that. “Depends. What is it?.”

“Sasabe-coach needs someone for the front desk. It’s a part time, so you can sstart going to cram school…”

“Cram school?” They hadn’t discussed school yet, let alone cram school.

“To help you with high school…”

“No.”

“Haru…”

He glared at Makoto and then looked away, hoping that would get the message across. He did not intend to compete for university placements. Even finishing high school seemed superfluous in his circumstances. He only needed a source of income to feed himself. He had no expectations or ambitions. Attending high school was his maximum concession.

“Fine. No cram school…” Makoto sighed. “Haru, I need to talk about something else. Can we go out for a coffee?”

Makoto brought him to a western style café near the club. It seemed new and popular, judging by the number of people coming in and out. Makoto bypassed the takeaway counter and asked the waiter for a table. There were only two available in the large salon, both smack in the middle. Haruka had always preferred the relative safety of corners and back of the room. Being surrounded by people made him restless. There was no other option, though, so he resigned himself to the uncomfortable setting.

Makoto ordered them drip coffee and strawberry shortcake. He found the man suspiciously quiet. Makoto always had some sort of chat going on. Stuff like swimming, his family or random trivia. By the time the waiter came with the cakes and drinks, they hadn’t so much as exchanged a word.

“Haru,” he finally spoke, “I want to thank you for helping me with the research project I’m working on. I know I might have been pushy in the beginning, but I want you to know that I appreciate your commitment.”

“Ok…” This didn’t sound good at all.

“I had originally planned to spend the whole semester in Iwatobi, working with you, but one of the professors in my department has fallen ill. I am the only other staff member who is qualified to teach the course she taught, and the university doesn’t want to hire anyone else, so…”

He looked apologetic and a bit sad. Haruka would have reached out to pat his back if he were a more affectionate person.

“…So, my sabbatical was suspended… I’m sorry, Haru. I have to go back to Tokyo.”

“Ok.”

It was, really. Makoto didn’t pull him off the island. The government did. Makoto had done his best to help, so Haruka wouldn’t really hold him accountable for his situation. Besides, he couldn’t really complain about his current life. He had a roof, a job to feed himself and access to water to swim. He never left Iwatobi looking for freedom from the shackles of civilization or whatever people might speculate. He left because he had no choice.

“Sousuke will be here, and my mom. Sasabe-san, Nagisa and Rei will also help with what they can. But if you ever need to talk…”

At that moment, Makoto pulled up his messenger bag and took a small white box out of it. It looked new and expensive.

“This is for you. It’s a smart phone. You can make calls and send messages, and a bunch of other things that I’ll show you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Haru…”

Makoto was putting him on the spot again and he hated it. He didn’t want the phone, he wanted to talk to Makoto in person. If Makoto were to leave, there was no telling if when he would come back, or if he’d remember Haruka at all when he did.

“When do you leave?”

“This Sunday.”

“And when do you come back?”

“F-for Christmas… Listen, Haru, we can arrange for you to visit Tokyo. Sousuke can come along…”

“I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine.”

The conversation was leaving him slightly irritated. He dug the spoon into the creamy dessert and scooped some pieces of strawberry into his mouth. He’d always noticed that, in these moments, Makoto would look at him intently. Sometimes, he seemed endeared for no reason. Haruka was just a regular person eating cake. There was nothing special about that. He stood up without prelude, leaving Makoto behind.

It was not the last he saw of the professor until his departure, of course. Later that day, Makoto came over to his house. They lit up the kotatsu and lounged on the porch. The irritation from their earlier meeting had dissipated and there was no point in dwelling on it. They chatted and munched on the mochi that Makoto had brought. After Makoto left for the night, Haruka went to turn off the kotatsu and clean up the living room. Under the kilted skirts, still intact, was the white box he’d left behind in the cage. It irked him a bit that Makoto didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He picked up the box, kept it in a shelf and went to bed.

Sunday came and went, and his life slid into a sense of routine. His mornings would be spent running errands, cooking and cleaning, and in the evenings, he would work in the swimming club. He was happy that it was nothing too strenuous - just sitting around, checking faces against photos in the membership cards, handing locker keys, collecting membership fees. Sometimes (more often than not) he would swim a few laps before his shift. Sasabe let it slip and never charged him.

Soon enough, Autumn went by and Winter rolled in, with cold winds and showers. His house was warm, and so were the clothes he now put on to go about his daily chores. He felt too warm sometimes and couldn’t understand how people could go around all wrapped up like that.

He never opened the phone box nor got in contact with Makoto otherwise. He thought he might have seen Yamazaki in town once but didn’t acknowledge him. Rei and Nagisa had come by a few times, and so had Makoto’s mother. He liked their company. It was soft and undemanding, like an offering without strings attached. It was reassuring to know they still thought of him, but he still refused to expect that attention to last.

* * *

 

 

It was on a pale winter day that the bubbles returned to his life. Haruka was on his way back from Tottori, where he’d gone for a scheduled checkup at the hospital. The snow had started to fall, and the brightness of the landscape made them seem like an optical illusion. Haruka dropped his eyes to the red velvet of the train seat, hoping the deeper color would hide them for now, but as he lifted his eyes again, there they were:translucent bodies, rounded in shape, floating in front of his eyes. He could already feel the telltale signs of the restlessness – what he’d called the _pull_ , the siren song of the waves, bidding him to leave the world behind and submerge himself in cool oblivion. This hold that the ocean had on him was both a cause and a product of his detachment from the shore and all its dwellers. The entity that lived in him made him invisible to the eyes of fellow humans and, at the same time, drew him away from their attention.

Haruka slammed his hand on the glass panel of the train window. Leaving Iwatobi to live away from civilization, in the middle of the sea, had felt like liberation at first. Now, it just felt like another kind of prison.

As the train approached the station, his thoughts veered towards Makoto and the small group of people that had come into close contact with him since his return to Iwatobi. Perhaps it was not too late to unwrap that phone and make the call, find out when Makoto would return and reassure himself that he was not forgotten. But as the water kept dancing away in the distance, the pull made itself stronger. Thoughts of hopelessness and escape started to creep into his head as he alighted into the platform, quiet at this time of day.

Iwatobi was a small town where all roads led to the sea. Somewhere, in that grid of interconnected ways, there was a double story house built by Nanase Satoru, two generations ago. Haruka knew what path he had to take to make his way to that house – the place he now called home. But soon he found that his mind was leading him astray. He could visualize the pier and the boats, slender vessels with suspended rows of lanterns, used for squid fishing. He was bigger than he had been when he tried the stunt for the first time, but it was still possible to pull it off – find a tarp and hide underneath it, wait for the rocking motion to intensify and for the slaps of salt water against the hull to become more violent. Only then would he take a peek at the deck, and wait for the right time, the right place, to jump.

As he walked, the sense of existing within a solid reality began to slip. He could still catch glimpses of the life taking place around him, but it was all gradually turning into a dream. There were cars slowing on bumps, policemen doing their rounds, houses where warms lights were being lit, children walking in groups along the lines on the road, sounds of vehicles, of voices, of metal screeching on metal.

A red and white barrier dropped in front of him making his steps come to a halt. There were intermittent lights flashing overhead. He was at a railway crossing. The scene struck him as familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on how. A fast train approached and zipped by. When the barriers were lifted, he started walking.

That's when his eyes caught a striking splash of burgundy against the pale grey of the sky. It meant something, it made him want to stop and look closer, but the lull of ocean waves was able to physically rock him and lead him by now. His lungs were full of briny air. He walked, leaving the beacon of warmth behind. One step, another, a swarm of bubbles clouding his vision. A familiar anguish.

Then it all came to a stop. His momentum was countered. He looked down and there were fingers wrapped around his wrist. A voice spoke out of the haze, urgent and breathy.

“Wait, _Haru-”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you for your patience and sorry for the long hiatus.  
> Admittedly, I fell out of love with this fic for a while because it seemed like no one was reading it. Although I mainly write for my own pleasure, that lack of feedback made me a bit sad. Now that this has gotten a fair amount of love (thank you for all the lovely comments!) that feeling is mostly gone. I will update as soon as I can. Stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoy this little idea that crept its way into my mind!
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated as always!
> 
> For those who haven't heard of Masafumi Nagasaki, here's the story: 
> 
> https://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/real-life/true-stories/naked-hermit-who-lived-on-deserted-island-for-thirty-years-captured-brought-back-to-civilisation/news-story/cb26d68f95f682f86e04d339e11e1541


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